


New Moon

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Kings of Nowhere [73]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: For something that started out of genuine concern, Ryan’s monthly retreats to the cabin have turned into something entirely different.
Relationships: Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones
Series: Kings of Nowhere [73]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/789789
Kudos: 71





	New Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for winkyblinkyandstew who asked for Jeremyan werewolf fluff and gets this instead??? :D?

For something that started out of genuine concern, Ryan’s monthly retreats to the cabin have turned into something entirely different.

Used to be where Ryan ran to because he was afraid of what he’d become.

Worried what the change would mean, scar on his shoulder from an attack while he was out on a walk and no known cure. 

Last of his savings going into renting the place – more of a hovel back then. Little more than four walls and a roof, bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling and drafty as hell. Nothing he’d cared about seeing as he hadn’t expected to spend much time inside, it was more the fact it was miles from anywhere, even the closest hiking trail.

Small chance anyone would happen upon a newly turned werewolf afraid of what he was, what he would – could – do.

That had changed over time, though. Full moon after full moon and Ryan realizing it wasn’t – all the outdated stories he’d heard, been told, about werewolves being ruled by instinct alone and barely more than rabid animals – were just that.

Stories passed on by people afraid of things they didn’t understand, perpetuating lies and myths and spreading unfounded fear.

When the change happens his instincts are more in the forefront of his mind, it’s true, but they’re not. They’re not uncontrollable, not geared towards death and destruction. He’s still him, albeit a bit furrier and with a few extra limbs that took more time than he’d care to think about to learn to control.

He still came out here every full moon once he realized what an idiot he’d been for a lot of the same reasons.

Liked the isolation of the place, the ability to stretch his legs as he ran and not worry about running into others who didn’t understand, deliberately or not. Liked getting away from the city with its cacophony or sounds and smells that had been unnerving before the sudden boost to his senses that came with what he’d become. 

A relief, really, not to have to filter out further distractions just to function.

========

Gavin and Michael joined the crew as a set. 

Glitz and glamour of the Golden Boy outshining the quiet threat (promise) at his shoulder.

Easy to make the mistake to focus on Gavin, dismiss Michael as just another goon hired to keep him safe. 

A snap of Gavin’s fingers and Michael was at their throats, and no wonder Los Santos was so wary of the Golden Boy and his attack dog.

========

Ryan always wondered what people would have said if they knew what Michael was back then.

Saw him as just another hired gun, no clue how much more dangerous he was without one.

========

A question, once, sun going down over the horizon and Ryan and Michael watching it from the penthouse roof while the others celebrated a successful heist downstairs.

“Born or bitten?”

Wariness to it that Ryan hadn’t understood at the time. 

He wasn’t in the habit of seeking other werewolves out, didn’t see the point when he had his hands full with his idiot crew.

Didn’t know there was this little statistic going around, how being bitten didn’t always work out for people. How a lot of them lost their goddamned minds, had to be put down if it went on too long. (The basis for the stories Ryan had heard, been told, reason for fear people had of werewolves.)

Michael from a long line of werewolves, lineage traced back generations to the old world, and Ryan just some idiot at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Michael fucking furious when he found out, Ryan telling him what had happened. That he was careful, went to the cabin to protect people - 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

\- so he’d shown him.

Invited Michael along the next time the full moon came around and pointed out the little hovel he kept his things while he ran free until the wolf in him was satisfied. The thick collar and chain connected to the metal pole he’d sunk into the ground in a little grove he’d only used once, left to rust and rot when he realized there was no need for them.

“Holy fuck, you moron,” like Ryan was breaking Michael’s heart.

Michael scrubbing a hand over his face and muttering something about Ryan being a goddamned moron, and an idiot and just all kinds of uncomplimentary things.

“You don’t - “ A sigh, Michael’s shoulders drooping, because he’d seen idiots like Ryan before, gone through this before. “God, I hate everything.”

Because werewolves and the stories about them being all (mostly, Michael had told him, tired look to his face) wrong and few resources out there to help the newly bitten figure things out.

Michael had become that for Ryan, taught him things he didn’t know. Showed him there was more to being a werewolf than enhanced senses, strength. Something of a healing factor, all things that turned out to be assets in Ryan’s line of work, gave him an edge over his enemies.

Taught him how to _play_ , when the full moon came around and the urge to run became too strong to push into the back of his mind, to just ignore.

Run and hide and hunt, trusting to his senses to lead him and the play fighting that would happen when he finally tracked Michael down. Snapping and snarling and no intent to hurt, cause harm, just stretching a muscle he’d neglected too long, something along those lines.

Things changed after Michael came along, something the others couldn’t help but notice.

Thought it was something else, a pair of idiots and the soft kind of feelings tied to the heart, which to be fair they weren’t entirely wrong about.

Funny though, the way the truth of it never crossing their minds because they were blind to the pretty much literal wolves in their midst. 

========

Well, most of them.

========

“Little on the nose, don’t you think?”

Gavin and his horrible sense of humor and a leather jacket with a snarling wolf’s head on the back as a gift to Michael.

Michael’s little smirk as he did a twirl to show it off.

“Nah.”

Michael and his horrible sense of humor, something of a warning to others no one ever paid attention to.

========

Jeremy - 

God, _Jeremy_.

The reason the others found out what Ryan and Michael are, and a goddamned pain in the ass.

“Oh, fuck no,” Michael had said, snarled, everything Geoff had told them about this little meet and greet thrown right out the window the moment they spotted the collar around Jeremy’s neck.

The pretty little chain held in the hand of the asshole Gavin was supposed to negotiate a truce with.

Jeremy and another bruiser at the asshole’s and nothing normal about any of it, even for Los Santos.

“I’m afraid we won’t be seeing eye-to-eye on anything here after all, gentlemen.”

For human, Gavin’s smile had shown an impressive array of teeth. No need to snap his fingers as stepped back to let Michael and Ryan deal with the situation as they deemed fit.

========

Jeremy’s a born werewolf like Michael, but he’d had a rougher time of it, to put it mildly. Dealt a bad hand and biding his time.

“Names, Jeremy,” Michael had said, “Give me fucking _names_.”

A promise and a threat, and no one stopped them when they went hunting.

========

Ryan bought the land the cabin was built on years ago, first big splurge after a successful heist and Gavin’s help in making sure no one would be able to trace it back to him.

The cabin, though - 

“What’s that word you love to use?” 

Michael scritching Jeremy’s ears as they study the hovel before them.

A long week for all of them, but more so for Jeremy who’d changed the moment they got there, let loose with a howl that tugged at something inside Ryan. Made him want to shift out to four nimble feet instead of two clumsy ones, but.

The cabin’s roof fell in sometime between their last visit and now, and it’s long past time they did something about the place.

Tolerable for one, a tight fit for two, impossible for three.

“Hovel, right?” 

Like Michael doesn’t know.

Smirk on his face matching the one on Jeremy’s, and Ryan ignoring both of them to start unloading the lumber they need to build a new cabin for the three of them.

========

Michael’s laughing as he backs away from Jeremy, snow-covered hands blatant proof that he’s the bastard who just shoved snow down the back of Jeremy’s coat.

Laughing and grinning and, “No, Jeremy, no!” as sheds his clothes and changes on the fly. 

This thing that the human eye can’t seem to follow, shift and change, transformation from one from to the next that should hurt more than it does.

Something to do with that extra bit of a healing factor, or something else, Ryan doesn’t know. (Doesn’t care to know.)

One moment Jeremy’s yelling at Michael and threatening revenge through his own sputtering laughter, the next Michael's running from a wolf snapping playfully at his heels.

Ryan watches the two of them as Michael vaults over a fallen log at the edge of the woods with Jeremy close on his heels. Laughs to himself when he hears a pair of howls not long afterward headed away from the cabin.

 _Idiots,_ Ryan thinks, and then, “ _assholes,_ because the car still needs to unloaded and isn’t that just convenient for them.

========

Gavin’s gifts are the worst.

The _worst_.

Tucked away at the bottom of Ryan’s bag where he hadn’t noticed it until he finished unpacking for their week at the cabin.

No crew business to worry about, no million and one other things to deal with.

Just a week up in the mountains at the cabin they finished at the end of summer and half a foot of fresh snow to play around in.

And now this.

Dumb little t-shirt bearing likenesses of Ryan, Michael, and Jeremy in their wolf forms howling at the moon and a post-it note with a cheeky little smiley face. A Gavin kind of thank-you for not ratting him out to Michael after the latest prank war that had devastated the penthouse.

Stupid and horrible and -

Jeremy’s _laughing_ at him, wolfy little grin and dumb face and easy for Michael to knock him over as they start up another round of play wrestling.

“Idiots,” Ryan sighs, because he’s the one who has to clean up after them, but it’s all soft and fond and completely fucked. “Don’t knock the table over!”

========

Ryan’s wolf is this shaggy black-furred bastard.

Big and mean looking with all the scars he’s picked up over the years, pale lines of silver-white fur marking them.

Bigger than Michael and Jeremy, and the few people outside the crew who have seen the three of them like this always think he’s the main threat.

Eyes on him and last mistake their enemies ever make.

========

According to Michael and Jeremy, Ryan puts heat out like a motherfucker, runs hotter than they do and the reason they like to curl up against him moments like this.

The three of them on the little rise overlooking the lake, full moon above them and everything right in the world. Their family, _pack_ safe back in Los Santos, and light from the cabin a comforting glow across the water.

Room to run, play, and no one to interrupt.

Jeremy’s already asleep, curled up against Ryan, and Michael sprawled over him, nose tucked against Jeremy’s side. Sliver of amber watching Ryan and more relaxed than Ryan’s seen Michael in far too long.

Ryan chuffs, laughs a little at the glint in Michael's eye as the asshole yawns, big jaw-cracking affair before he settles back down and goes to sleep, trusting Ryan to watch over them.


End file.
